Gracie May

We heard about her at a family Christmas party. We were in Carroll County on Christmas Eve at that house I am always running to if you read this blog. She was homeless, we were told, and she needed help, a home, a family. Gina Robertson, whom I have known since she was a little girl having been good friends with her older brother, told my wife about an abandoned dog that slept against a fence wanting the company of the dog inside the yard. Someone, it seems, moved and left her like the piles of litter and trash in front of the empty house. 

She was shy, untouchable. Gina had been feeding her and persuaded the owner of the fence she slept against to stop shooting at her with a pellet gun. "I'll find her a home," she pleaded. And she did.

My wife and I decided late one drizzly, cold, grey afternoon to ride over and see if we could find her. There she was, just like Gina had described, curled up against the fence of one of Gina's neighbors wanting in, wanting a friend, wanting a place to belong. A knock on Gina's door brought her outside to help us try to capture the dog she called Chesty because of her white chest on her otherwise black coat. A slow move towards her by Gina sent Chesty retreating. We all backed across the street and watched while Chesty returned to her spot and once more lay down against the fence trying to touch the dog on the other side. 

Penny slowly made her way across the road to take a try at Chesty and this time the stray stayed put. She gently extended a hand towards the frightened dog who lowered her head but remained still. 

"What do I do now?" Penny asked while she kept one hand on the dog's head. 

"Pick her up," I suggested while I opened the back door of the truck.

And she did and we took her home and put her in our empty back yard, the one that has been empty since Lucky died and broke our hearts. 

She, Chesty, whom my wife renamed Gracie May, immediately made her way to the fence along the east property boundary and lay down, just like she was doing when we rescued her, against the fence trying desperately to get to Skokie, a huge Mastiff that belongs to our neighbor next door. In the coming days, the two dogs would wear out the grass along the fence as they quickly became best friends. 

We think Gracie May had been abused by her previous owners because despite picking her up that first time, neither one of us can put our hands on her anymore. I can touch her nose one time upon each entry into the back yard, but after that she quickly backs away. She likes us, however, and slowly she began to own the backyard just like we wanted her to. She gets excited when I drive up and yelps like a little baby when I leave the yard. But still, all I can do is touch the tip of her nose. She won't let me pet her the way I long to.

Maybe that's OK. We can't love others on our own terms. Life doesn't work well that way. That's why some people can't endure cats. Cats always have it their way, and that is too much for some people. I have a theory about people's responses to cats. I always tell my students, "Never trust a person who doesn't like cats." 

"But I don't like cats," someone in my classes always protests.

"Don't trust yourself," is my constant response.

People tend to like dogs because they think dogs are like us. The sad fact is that dogs are far more noble than most human beings. That's my opinion, but I'm right. Cats, on the other hand, mirror the human condition much more accurately. Like us, it is all about them, what they want, when they want it, and how they want it. When people can love such self-centered creatures, they can be far more forgiving of the same deficiencies in people. That's my opinion, but I'm right.

Gracie May is a flawed dog, at least from my selfish perspective. I want to pet her, hug her, make her my own, but that is not going to happen. She is a lot like a cat. It's going to be on her terms. I don't like that but I can accept it. She does love us, but she shows it in ways far different than dogs usually do. She is the first dog I have ever had to love like a cat. I have lots of experience at that, though. I can handle it.

Gracie May, the new owner of the back yard at 333 West Monroe Ave.